(Name) had spent the entire day inside again.
Matthew glared at the woman with narrowed eyes from her position on the couch; she was sprawled out in an ungainly fashion, staring up at the ceiling with blank (e/c) eyes, and the television's monochromatic glow made her form look almost alien. She had been watching the old black and white shows yet again, it seemed. Although, from the atmosphere in the room, Matthew could guarantee she hadn't paid attention to the screen even once.
"You promised you'd go outside today," Matthew growled dangerously, crossing his arms as he continued his heated glare at (name) with nearly venomous violet eyes. "What have I said about breaking promises to me, (name)?"
"I'm sorry." Her voice was as colorless as the television program currently playing on the screen. It was devoid of anything and everything that could have even been considered apologetic. "I just didn't feel like it. I'll do it tomorrow. I promise."
"Fucking liar!" the Canadian snarled, his tone low and spiteful as he grabbed (name)'s wrist and yanked her up off of the couch, the remnants of his last cigarette fuming on his breath as he continued to bark at her. "You always say this—that you'll try to get better, that you'll go outside, that you'll talk to your friends, but what do you do?!"
(Name) didn't answer. She just stared down at the ceiling, the skin underneath her (e/c) eyes marred by shadowed canyons, (h/c) hair slightly greasy from doing nothing but staying in one position on the couch for days on end. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking by the impassive, nearly statuesque and stark expression plastered on her once smiling face.
"Answer me, god-fucking-dammit!" Matthew's harsh tone thundered throughout the empty house, echoing off of each and every wall. "Why won't you help yourself?! Why do you have to continue making me watch this?! I fucking hate it, you bitch—watching as you fucking die in front of my eyes!"
"…why don't you leave me if you hate it so fucking much?" She raised her gaze to him at last, her eyes as heavily guarded as her face. The only thing that betrayed the inner workings of her heart was the way they scan over him with quivering accuracy; from the messy, long blonde hair hastily pulled into a ponytail, to the piercing, all seeing violet gaze, to the lips that spat out profanity and harsh words like it was his job.
For once in his life, Matthew Williams was speechless.
He wasn't the type to never have an answer. He was the guy everyone knew not to fuck with—lest his prized hockey stick that had been modified to have a switchblade hidden inside it would meet their faces. He always knew what to do and what to say in every single situation; whether it be a street fight, a gamble gone wrong, or just an argument with his equally as violent twin brother…
Matthew Williams always knew what to say or do. That is, until (name) came into his life.
The (h/c) young woman had turned his world upside down. One moment he had been content slugging some bastard's face in with his fist, and the next he was desperate to hide the fact he wanted to make her as happy as a delinquent like him could. Matthew barely even remembered how they had met—that day was a blur, full of alcohol and fighting and death threats, and then he was in some chick's house with an ice pack on his head, and a girl with probably the most amazing voice he had ever heard had been saying, "I'm (name). You were knocked out in some fight at the bar, but I managed to convince those asses to leave you alone so I could bring you here. Need some coffee?"
From then on, it had been just him and her—crashing at one another's place whenever they needed it, being there for one another no matter what…
For once in his life, Matthew had gained a friend. A friend who wouldn't stab him in the back when he least expected it.
And that was why he hadn't left (name). Because even though Matthew lived in a world full of blood and deception and cruelty and pain, he needed at least one ray of light that would always shine for him when he needed it. He was a selfish man, and he always would be.
But just because he was selfish didn't mean he couldn't love (name) with all of his twisted, black heart the way he did.
"Well, Matthew? Are you going to answer? No one likes a hypocrite, you know." (Name) continued to stare at him impassively, voice blunt and almost emotionless as she spoke.
"I…I haven't left you because…because I…gah, fuck it!"
Matthew's lips curled into yet another snarl, and before he could register the twitch of his arm muscles, he was yanking (name) against his chest and clutching her there as tightly as he could, fingernails digging into her skin through her shirt.
"I haven't left you because I can't, you fucking stupid bitch!" the blonde hissed through his teeth, arms tightening around (name) when he felt her stiffen. "Don't you get it, (name)?! I love you, goddammit! I fucking love you! And I'm not gonna just up and leave you when you're like this—when I can at least try to fucking help you! Why the hell are you even acting like this anyway?! For fuck's sake, (name), give me some answers! So I can help you! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
(Name) stared up at him, her (e/c) eyes no longer as hollow as they had once been. Instead, they were filled with dread and confusion and hopelessness and—the thing that got to Matthew the most—remorse. She shook ever so slightly in his arms, chewing on her lower lip as her voice escaped her mouth in a quiet and simple manner.
"…I don't know, Matthew. I don't know."
That did it for him.
Matthew grabbed (name)'s face in his hands—hand that had soaked in their fair share of blood, and felt their fair share of pain and bruises and cuts—and yanked it up towards his, smashing his lips against her own. It was a desperate, frenzied, violent and furious gnashing of teeth; tangling of tongue; dancing of lips. It was the only way Matthew could show her just how much he cared without pretty words or expensive dates or shiny rocks imbedded in gold bands.
It was the only way Matthew could show (name) just how much he loved her, because he was not the type of guy who could really get out his feelings unless it was with his hockey stick and his fist.
When he at last pulled himself away from the brutal, savage kiss, Matthew pressed his forehead against (name)'s and whispered, "Please, babe…please let me help you. If you don't know, then I don't know, but we can at least try. I'm not gonna just fucking stand here and watch you waste away like this. I don't know how this started, but I'm gonna make sure it stops. Got it?"
He never said "please." It was a word that hadn't been drilled into his vocabulary. Yet when (name)'s happiness was involved…
"Please" was mandatory.
(Name) swallowed shakily, allowing herself to lean against his chest as one hand precariously found his, gripping it like it was a lifeline. At last, she nodded, voice raw and hoarse with the emotions she had tried so damn hard to keep behind the dam of a mask she had been wearing for so long. "…a-all right…Mattie…"
Matthew's embrace tightened even more, and he allowed himself the simple pleasure of nuzzling his face against hers, heaving a deep sigh. "…good. It's a promise, then? A promise you won't break this time? A promise to let me help you…to let me see you smile again. Because, fucking hell, (name)…I'm gonna go on a rampage if I can't see you smile soon. And you don't want that, do you?"
(Name)'s lips slowly managed to curve upwards into a small semblance of a smile. "…I promise, Mattie. I…promise."
This time, she would keep it, too.